


Clothes

by Hibernia1



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Clothes, Established Relationship, M/M, Wilson is Cunning, ironing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 22:24:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5603170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hibernia1/pseuds/Hibernia1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wilson is ironing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clothes

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've been posting House fan fic on LJ before (ages ago), and now that I've got an AO3 account anyway, I decided to put them here, too.
> 
> Warnings: some bad words, taking of the name of Jesus in vain, slightly homophobic remark.

“What are you doing?” House whined.

“I’m ironing my shirts. Go back to sleep,” Wilson said.

“Since when do you do that in our bedroom?”

“Since the laundry room is too full to move.”

“You’re such a passive-aggressive little bastard. I said I’d get all my stuff out of there asap.”

“You shouldn’t have put all that junk in there to begin with. And it’s been there for over two weeks, that’s hardly asap in my book.”

“But my leg hurts!”

“It didn’t hurt when you put it there? Strange.”

“I hate you.”

“Don’t care.”

House sat up in bed. “That’s not a shirt you’re ironing.”

“You are so perceptive.”

“It’s a fucking _tie_. You iron your ties?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because they wrinkle where they are knotted.”

“But you always knot them in the same place, so no one will ever notice.”

“I notice.”

“You really should get treated for OCD.”

“I’ll get right on it.”

“Will you at least stop ironing long enough to make me breakfast?”

“When I’m done I’ll take a shower and then we’ll have breakfast.”

“But I’m hungry now!”

“I don’t care.”

House threw Wilson’s pillow in Wilson’s general direction.

“If you make me hurt myself by throwing stuff at me you’re in for a world of shit,” Wilson warned him.

“I missed on purpose. This was just a warning shot.”

“Well, stop it.”

“How many more items do you plan to iron? Please tell me it’s not that entire pile on the chair.”

“Actually, yes.”

“There’s stuff from me in that pile. You don’t need to iron that. People will think I’m sick if I show up without wrinkles.”

“Very likely, yes.”

“Or worse, they’ll assume I’ve turned gay.”

“The fact that we’re living together might have prepared them for that particular shock.”

“Seriously, leave my clothes alone.”

“It won’t kill you to look decent.”

“It might. James, I’m serious. Touch that T-shirt and you’re a dead man.”

“Will you get all those things out of the laundry room today?”

“You’re not using that T-shirt to blackmail me.”

“Watch me.”

“I really do hate you. PUT THAT DOWN! Jesus! I’ll clear out the laundry room!”

“Thanks.”

“You’re so not welcome.”


End file.
